Summer’s End

 one time i scraped my back falling off of a slide,

(it turned red, seemed to blossom like the world’s ugliest flower),

and it was fear, adrenaline, and the scariest of free-falling without consent

down into something made unforgiving.

it was a drop off into the abyss, 

it was in a place it didn’t belong,

little fingers grasping, slippery with pool water,

tangy chlorine and sweet watermelon

and sour blood.